Lingering Promises
by justonemoreartist
Summary: Queen Idunn of Arendelle cares for her children over the various stages of their lives as best she can with sweet words that ring hollow against the weight of their lives. Acts as a series of connected oneshots. Contains King Agdar x Queen Idunn as a pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Sorry in advance. Based off of a prompt wherein Elsa is a construction worker: I took it in a different direction.

* * *

**Lingering Promises**

Idunn pushed open the door and stepped inside. As was usually the case, her daughter's room looked like the aftermath of a fierce battle, fought not with guns and swords but dolls and blankets and coloring books. Strewn about the mess were pencils and blocks and clothes both dirty and clean, making the terrain treacherous for even the most sure-footed of adventurers. The queen, though hardly that type, could spy an opening when she saw one, and so she took it.

Idunn concealed a groan behind a cough as she sank to the small patch of open floor with as much grace as was possible with her heavily swollen belly. Beside her, her daughter was holding two sticks together and glaring at them. She puffed up her cheeks and shut her eyes tightly, her little face scrunched up in total concentration. A small pile of twigs was lying in front of her, dripping sweet smelling sap onto the carpet and likely to stain it. The queen shook her head and patted Elsa's back when the girl's face, usually a beautiful porcelain shade, began to transition to something more akin to plum. "Elsa, sweetie, time to breathe."

The girl blew out a frustrated breath and dropped her hands to her side. "This is HARD!"

Idunn chuckled as she stroked Elsa's hair. "Can I help?"

Elsa lifted the twigs again and pushed them into her mother's hands. "Hold."

She accepted the gift without comment, watching as her daughter picked up another pair of sticks and brought them together in what seemed like a practiced motion: a quick glance around revealed several more twigs lying about, some of them concealed under other detritus. Idunn suspected that this was the reason the maid had happily informed her that the little princess had been quiet all morning, but like most mothers, the claim that their toddler had been "quiet" was cause for immediate suspicion.

Elsa's angry cry was followed quickly by another offering of twigs. It looked like she'd run out of them soon. "Hold," she muttered, distracted by a new set. Idunn took the opportunity to quietly put the sticks to the side.

"Hold…what, Elsa?" she said in an expectant tone.

"Hold…please," the girl answered, glancing guiltily up at her mother and then back at her work. Idunn smiled and shifted a bit closer. "Very good." She dropped a kiss on her hair.

At the gesture, a swirl of magic appeared, and both of them gasped: Elsa in wonder and delight, and Idunn in nervous awe. The twigs, pushed together at right angles, were now joined at the ends by a thick smear of ice. Lines of frost were drawn down the length of the sticks until they reached Elsa's hands, which Idunn knew not to touch now, lest she be hurt.

She leaned back slightly, her hand falling off Elsa's shoulder and swallowed as Elsa squirmed and squealed and then suddenly thrust the sticks at her face. "Look!"

Idunn gave her a tight smile before carefully taking the new arrangement of ice and wood. In defiance of normal behavior, the ice showed no signs of melting; indeed, if she examined Elsa's creation closely, she could see it pulsing with an inner cold that made something inside of her tremble.

"Elsa…" she said, and paused while the girl shook with excitement. She tried again. "Elsa…what exactly are you doing with this?"

"I'm making!" the girl announced. She had already picked up another pair of twigs, emboldened by her recent success, and Idunn sat silently as the newest pair began crackling as ice raced up their lengths, Elsa's breathless giggles following it as it went.

Idunn said nothing until the magic was finished and Elsa was pressing the creation into her hands with a distracted movement, already intent on the next set. "All right," the queen said, "so you're making…what are you making?"

"Rockaby," Elsa muttered, twisting a stick around in her hands before discarding it.

"You're making a rockaby?" Idunn asked. She thought for a moment, then added, "a crib?"

Elsa nodded. She'd found a twig that she liked more, because this time a pale blue light twined gently around it and its partner until they, too, were merged into one shape.

"Are you making it for me?"

Elsa shook her head, frowning.

"…are you making it for the baby?"

Elsa's happy grin in response lit up her sky blue eyes the same way her magic did, and it almost made Idunn feel safe. Her daughter, with her peculiar gift, never meant her or anyone else any harm, after all. And yet…

She shoved those thoughts away: her paranoia as a human mother raising a magical child was not sufficient basis to reject Elsa. Even if there had been a few incidents before, with servants tendering hasty resignations before all but fleeing for the hills, leaving the royals scrambling for replacements, even if Elsa's powers were unpredictable both in scope and strength, and even if neither she nor her husband were sure of what to do with their child when a toddler's tantrums took on physical form in the shape of harsh winds and razor sharp spikes: the girl before her was her own, and if Idunn could never quite let her guard down around her, she would, at least, never leave her behind.

She took in the room and an idea came to her mind. "Where are you going to put it?"

Elsa blinked and looked up, the ice dissipating as her eyes followed the same track as her mothers, her eyebrows lifting as realization slowly dawned.

"You might have to clean things a little, first," Idunn offered helpfully. "Otherwise the baby can't stay here, can it?"

Elsa's eyes widened in horror, a response that fascinated her mother. From the moment she had learned of Idunn's pregnancy and the fact that she would have a baby sister or brother soon, Elsa had reacted not with confusion or anger or fear, but with a violent anticipation that manifested in such odd ways, like when she insisted on handfeeding Idunn to make sure the baby ate for an entire month, or made sure to hug and kiss her mother around the shoulders and then around the belly. And now crib-making.

"Can you keep your room clean, for the baby?"

Elsa's protectiveness of her unborn sibling was apparently enough to counteract her messy habits, because the girl's voice was totally sincere when she said, "Yes." She stared into the distance and then back at her mother with such intensity the woman almost flinched. "I will." There was something prophetic about her statement that sent a chill up the queen's spine: for all her immaturity, mystery, and magic, Elsa's eyes were filled with a fire that made Idunn feel entirely out of her depth.

She could only hope her child would not feel the same way. But how would they? Elsa's love was a fierce, wild thing, but with it came her complete acceptance, a rare thing that she bestowed upon very few. If Idunn could be certain of one thing, it was that Elsa, once she gave her love, would never turn away.

She smiled in relief. "Good girl. Let's clean up together, shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Prompt was the queen (Idunn) reading to a young Anna a storybook, set a short time after the accident. Since this was similar enough to the previous chapter (although obviously set several years later) I decided to put it here instead of with the other drabbles.

Before this, I didn't actually know that a) the Three Billy Goats Gruff was Norwegian or that it was b) written around the 1840's, which is when Frozen is set. Pretty cool, huh?

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**And Elsa Makes Four…Right?**

"Which one would you like tonight?"

"Hamster Huey and the Gooie Kablooie!" Anna instantly answered, bouncing up and down on the end of the bed, her fast growing pigtails flopping against her neck with every bounce.

Her mother groaned. "Anna, I've read that at least ten times in the last month. We're reading something else, for the sake of variety," Idunn said, crouching in front of the small bookshelf by the side of the bed.

"And my sanity," she muttered under her breath.

"Daddy would read it to me," Anna grumbled, but made no further comment, just waggled her feet and waited.

Idunn pulled a book out and read the cover aloud: "_The History of the Nordic Peoples from the 3rd Century and Onwards, With a Special Discussion of Their Habits, Religions and Myths_". She lifted one eyebrow. Hmmm.

"What does 'Nordic' mean?" Anna asked. She was holding a pillow in her lap. Thankfully there weren't any teethmarks in the pillowcase yet, but there probably would be soon.

"I see your father's getting distracted again." Idunn set the book aside to take back to the main library later. She flipped through a few more books as she explained that a Nordic was what she and Anna were.

The bed shook when Anna tossed herself backwards. "But I thought we were people." Her upside down face was scrunched up in confusion, her pigtails dangling over the edge of the bed.

"Nordics_ are_ people." Idunn looked over one book and decided that if Anna's impatient hands batting her shoulder were any indication of the girl's current mood, she wouldn't be interested in a chapter, but rather a full story. She put the book back.

"Are they special people?"

"A specific type of people, yes." The queen selected a book and glanced at the cover. Yes, this would do.

"Special people," Anna whispered fiercely over the edge of the bed. "'Cause that's us. _Special_." She then went quiet and disappeared above the bed, presumably to gnaw at the pillowcase.

Idunn stood and caught sight of her daughter, teeth locked on the edge of the pillow, staring guiltily up at her. She coughed and let go of the pillow, muttering unhappily into her knees when Idunn took it away from her and placed it on her other side as she sat down on the bed.

She chuckled when Anna popped up and demanded her right to sit in her lap because "booktime is laptime", and scooted over on the bed, trying not to wince when her daughter fairly fell into her lap without regard for anything besides getting closer to Mommy. She didn't stop whining until Idunn's arms were wrapped around her and the book was in Anna's lap.

Idunn nudged her side. "Can you read the title for me?"

Anna bit her lip and gripped both sides of the book, glaring hard at the cover. The title was done in blocky gold lettering that had a slight whimsical touch to it to match the picture of the three happy little goats beneath it.

"The…Tru-tree-"

"Three; see the 'h'?"

"Oh. Um. The…Thu-_ree_…Billy…Goats…" Anna stopped and brought the book right up to her face.

She turned her head, affronted. "That last one's not a real word." She seemed insulted by the cover and its use of non-words in the title.

Idunn patted her hand. "It is, it's just not one you've seen before. 'Gruff'."

Anna repeated the word several times and then giggled. "I'm a dog. Gruff! Gruff!"

"That explains the pillows," Idunn said.

"I don't do that," Anna said immediately, not looking at her mother. She sounded completely sincere. Idunn just shook her head and opened up the book.

"There once-"

"Is this a long book?"

Idunn thumbed through the pages. "No, not very long." Thankfully. Anna's attention span was barely bigger than she was.

"Okay." This seemed to placate her daughter. She began again.

"There once-"

"Is there MAGIC in it?"

"No, no magic in it." Just a nice, simple, magic free book for a nice, simple, magic free evening.

"Oh, _okay_." Anna sighed heavily and leaned back into her mother's chest. Idunn cleared her throat and tried again.

"There once was-"

"Who're the good guys?"

Idunn laughed and ruffled her hair. "Anna, you can't keep asking me that before I've even read you the story! You need to start figuring this out on your own."

"But everyone looks like good guys to me," the girl whined.

"Even a nasty old troll hiding under a bridge?" her mother asked.

Anna shrugged her little shoulders. "Trolls are good guys."

"Why is that?"

"'Cause one of them gave me this, see?" Anna tilted her head and tugged at her right pigtail, the one that had the blonde streak running through it. "It's a present. It makes me special."

Idunn was quiet for a moment, barely acknowledging her daughter as she squirmed with impatience. She and Agdar had held their breath when Anna had first discovered her new streak, neither sure of just how to lie to her about its presence, but to their relief she had immediately decided it was a good thing and invented a story that they had happily gone along with.

Their excuses for Elsa's retreat from her sister's life had not been so readily accepted.

"It does," she said, returning her eyes to the book. "But I think there are different kinds of trolls."

"…like there are different kinds of people?"

"Exactly."

"So there are special and unspecial trolls?"

"I…suppose?"

Anna clenched a tiny fist. "I _knew_ it."

Idunn tried not to sigh so obviously. "Would you like to hear a story about a troll?"

"Yeah!"

"Well then." The queen opened up the book; Anna leaned forward excitedly and harumph'ed when she didn't see any pictures, just lines of text. It was big enough for her to read, but the girl still struggled with her letters. Her mother sometimes wondered if it had more to do with her being used to being read to than an actual slowness, but all the same there was no harm in reading a story to her at night. "There once was a family of goats; Papa Goat, Mama Goat, and Baby Goat."

"And Elsa Goat," Anna supplied.

"…yes. And Elsa Goat. Now, Baby Goat was the littlest on-"

"ME!"

"That's right, you. Because you're my scruffy little goat, aren't you?" Anna sniggered when Idunn tickled her side, curling away from her hand as she laughed. She went right back to her mother's arms when Idunn opened the book once more.

"One day, while she was playing the littlest goat looked across the river and saw a huge field of grass as far as her little eyes could see. She-"

"Who was she playing with?"

"Well wasn't she playing with her sister?"

"No," Anna said softly. "Her sister's at home."

A quiet fell over them. It sounded like little feet puttering back and forth in front of a closed door, or surreptitious glances that were anything but at an older sister during dinner, or her daughter tugging on her dress and asking if they could all of them go on a picnic or swimming or ice skating, her little face falling when she was told that heirs needed lots of time to study, and that Elsa should be left alone.

"…of course. So, the littlest goat saw a huge field of grass and grew hungry. All the grass on her side of the river was poor and thin, and on the other side it was long and green and scrumptious looking."

Anna repeated "scrumptious" to herself several times, trying out several different syllabic arrangements until she settled upon the right one, Idunn waiting until she was finished.

"So, bold little Baby Goat went up to the bridge that went across the river."

"Is it a magic bridge?"

"I don't think so."

"_Okaaaay._"

"She got halfway across the bridge when suddenly…an enormous troll jumped in front of her!"

"Cool!"

"The troll said, 'This is my bridge that you're crossing; if you don't leave, I'll gobble you right up!'"

"…oh."

"But Baby Goat was smart. She knew that trolls were greedy thin-"

"Some trolls."

"Yes, _some_ trolls were greedy things. And this particular troll was very greedy indeed. He was so greedy, in fact, that he was covered in ugly, black, course fur and had huge horns growing out of his head."

Anna put a hand over the page, turning back to look at her mother. "Wait…so…if you're ugly, you're bad?"

Idunn decided not to get into a discussion about how children's literature tended to use physical attributes to send messages about the characters they described and simply agreed with her daughter. Anna seemed a little confused by this, but at last she took her hand off the page and waited for her mother to continue.

"Baby Goat knew that he would indeed gobble her up in a second if he so wished, so she said quickly, 'Oh, but you shouldn't eat me! I'm only a little, baby goat, not big enough for even a bite. But if you wait, Mama Goat's bigger than I am, and would make a bigger meal.'"

"WHAT?!" Anna cried, startling her mother, whirling around and fixing her with a look of terror and terrible determination that such an awful thing would never happen. "I…I can't let a troll eat you!"

"It's okay, Anna-" Idunn patted her back while Anna clung to her tightly, wailing into her dress about how she would never hurt Mommy and if a nasty old troll were to go after them she'd fight him for her, she would, she _would_. "It's okay; Mama Goat doesn't get eaten."

Anna lifted her head. "She doesn't?" Her red-rimmed eyes searched her mother's, hope shining against the teal.

"No, it's a trick, see?"

"Ooooohhhhhhh." Anna slid back down and wiggled with delight, her distress forgotten in an instant. She loved tricks in her stories. "Keep reading!"

Idunn forged ahead. "The greedy troll looked her over and decided that she was telling the truth; Baby Goat was barely big enough to fit into his mouth. He decided to let her pass, and Baby Goat ran all the way across the bridge to safety on the other side, while the troll crawled underneath the bridge where he had been hiding."

"You need to check under my bed again," Anna reminded her. "And the closet. You didn't check it last time," she said, her voice accusing. Idunn assured her she would check twice this time, which soothed her daughter. For now. She turned the page.

"A little while later, Mama Goat looked up and saw the field full of grass, and her little Baby Goat munching away at it from across the river. So she, too, went up to the bridge."

"Is the bridge magic _now_?"

"Ah, no."

Anna banged her fists down on her thighs. "I want there to be magic!"

That made one of them. The thought wasn't quite a betrayal, because she loved her older daughter dearly. It was just that there were some things that, had she been given the option, she would have changed. Or perhaps not. Not for the first time, she wondered if perhaps things might have gone differently, if Elsa had been more careful.

But hindsight stretches back as far as foresight struggles to see, so Idunn returned her thoughts to the present and her current charge.

"How about the magic of family and love?" She said, pulling her daughter tight against her chest, but Anna was pouting now.

"That's not real magic."

"But it's the best kind of magic."

Anna perked up. "…special magic?"

"Very special."

"Okay." Anna waved a hand at the open book. "Keep reading."

"So Mama Goat went up to the bridge, and only got halfway across it when suddenly…the troll jumped onto the bridge!"

"Boooooo bad troll!"

"Exactly. So the troll said to Mama Goat, 'This is my bridge you're crossing; if you don't leave, I'll gobble you up!'"

"Wait. Why don't they just leave then?"

"They have to get to the grass on the other side."

"But home is on_ this_ side," Anna said, as if it were a universal truth.

"Well…it's different for goats. Home is wherever your family is."

"Ohhhhhh. That makes sense. Okay."

"Mama Goat saw that this was a very greedy troll. He was so greedy, he had long arms that fell all the way to his feet when he stood upright, but he never did."

Anna straightened a little in Idunn's lap. The queen grinned and kissed her hair.

"But Mama Goat was just as smart as Baby Goat; she knew that tro-that _some_ trolls were very greedy, so she had a plan to keep him from eating her. Mama Goat knew that he would eat her in two bites, so she said quickly, 'Oh, but you shouldn't eat me! I'm hardly more than two bites for you, and not worth it. But if you wait, Papa Goat is coming soon, and he is more than enough for you.'"

"…trick?" Anna asked, the anticipation seeping into her voice.

"Very_ sneaky_ trick."

Anna giggled behind cupped hands, fairly trembling with excitement.

"The troll looked her over and decided she was telling the truth; his mouth was so big that she was indeed only two bites worth, and not enough for a meal. He decided to let her pass, and she ran all the way across the bridge to where Baby Goat was, and the two of them ate the delicious grass together."

"Scah-ruhm-pchous grass."

"Exactly. And the greedy old troll hid under his bridge again. Finally, Papa Goat, who had horns that were as long and as sharp as swords, looked up and saw Baby and Mama Goat across the river, eating scrumptious grass, and decided he was to join them. So he went up to the bridge and began to cross."

"I know what happens next!" Anna said.

"What happens next?"

"The troll jumps up from under the bridge!"

"And that's exactly what happened. The troll jumped up from under the bridge, intending to eat Papa Goat, but-"

"Trick time trick time trick time!"

"Yes, this is where the trick happens. But Papa Goat was much bigger than Baby or Mama Goat, and had his long horns besides. With a single toss of his horns, he threw the hairy, ugly troll over the side of the bridge, where he landed in the water with a huge splash."

"Splooosh!"

"Papa Goat trotted over the bridge to join Baby and Mama Goat in the field of scrumptious grass. And with that," Idunn said as she closed the book, "no one ever heard from the nasty old troll again."

If she expected Anna to cheer at the troll being defeated she was disappointed, because her usually talkative younger daughter was totally silent, staring at the back of the book.

She petted Anna's hair, avoiding the streak. "What's wrong?"

"What about Elsa Goat?" Anna asked, and a part of Idunn's heart turned to ice.

"She'll join them, on her own time," her mother responded, her false confidence indistinguishable from the real thing, but Anna shook her head so forcefully her pigtails sliced through the air.

"No. _No_. She NEVER joins them. She never joins us! She never...she never joins me," Anna said, her little shoulders starting to heave up and down as she took big breaths, liquid glistening on her eyelashes.

"What if...what if the troll comes back? What happens to her? She's not safe!" she cried, desperate to let someone know the danger she was in.

"She's fine at home," Idunn said, trying to calm her down by rubbing her back, "and Papa Goat can go make sure she's fin-"

"But what about Baby Goat?" Anna was crying now, in large tears that dripped down her cheeks with complete abandon. "Why can't Baby Goat see her? Why can't she leave home? What...what did I do to her?"

She struggled against her mother's arms when Idunn gripped her tightly. "I don't want grass! I want Elsa!"

"Shhhhhh." Idunn rocked her daughter as she stroked her cheek, fingers growing wet as Anna cried harder. She always refused to do so in front of Elsa, always showing her a smile that the older girl never returned, so it fell to Idunn to hold her when the agony of being ignored became too much. "Shhhh, I know, I know."

Anna's tears became sniffles that slowly turned into soft, wheezing snores, but her little hands still clung to her mother's dress. Sometimes she refused to be left alone with such fervor that Idunn simply brought her to her own bed. It was not the best arrangement, for it made Anna even more aware of the fact that her parents could visit Elsa but she couldn't, but it let her sleep through those more difficult nights.

She wasn't sure if it would be worse or better if Anna's single-minded focus upon her sister's emotional disappearance waxed or waned. At once she could neither bear to see her younger daughter so unhappy, but to watch the light of hope fade from her eyes...

"She'll join us...when she's ready," she whispered. She had to, for Anna's sake. Elsa knew as much; her younger daughter was not the only one who had cried over their separation.

"She'll come back, you'll see." Idunn held her child, hoping that her warmth would bring Anna happy dreams, and knowing that, as in so many other areas, she was completely powerless to make it so.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I had not originally planned on making more of these, but I was inspired by SorrowsFlower's excellent review, and agreed that this series of oneshots needed an ending, so here it is.

The title was given to me, so thanks to who is responsible for that.

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** But Someday...**

The queen silently drew her legs up and tucked her chin upon her knees, watching the starlight as it filtered through the windowpanes.

She had always liked the openness of their room. The tall doors that opened up onto the balcony that overlooked the sea had been her favorite feature of the room. Agdar had laughed but agreed to move the bed so that she could see the sunset from it or the stars as they twinkled into being one by one until the world outside glittered with thousands of points of light, an eternity captured within manmade borders of glass and wood. There had been many nights where she would find herself awake as her husband slept, the sight of the stars comforting in a quiet way. They reminded her that for all the stress of life during the day, the world still turned at night, time moving forward at its gentle pace.

She couldn't sleep tonight, nor had she been sleeping well of late. Tomorrow she and her husband were to leave, for the first time in well over a decade, and despite their firm reassurances to their eldest daughter she found herself wrapped in trepidation. Elsa's control over her terrible, awesome power was at its height, but her happiness was not, and that thought made Idunn lay awake at night, thinking.

The gloves had been Agdar's idea and Elsa's choosing. Idunn knew immediately that they did not work, but she knew better than to say. She had lied to her younger daughter for the sake of her safety. Soothing Elsa with false words was no different. The intention, the outcome; they were both the same.

The guilt made her hands itch.

She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths in through her nose. The night air was still, as if it had been caught or persuaded with soft words to slow down and let her breathe. She had once imagined that she could draw this calm inside of her, stitch it to her skin, and smooth it upon Elsa's face when she stroked the girl's cheek as she slept. She had not touched her child in years. Elsa would not allow it because the walls she constructed around herself to keep her from touching and breaking the world also kept out those warm embraces that a wandering, withdrawn child always needs.

Elsa may have grown up but she had not grown old; rather, she had grown weary. That, at least, was something they had in common.

Idunn opened her eyes and shifted, careful not to pull on the covers. She leaned her head against the bedpost and looked out the window. The stars were lovely tonight. She longed to see them from more than just the windows. Years ago, when the girls were little enough that Anna still needed help walking, the four of them had spent a night stargazing from one of the tallest cliffs overlooking the fjord, laid out on a blanket. Anna had fallen asleep within minutes of Agdar blowing out the lamp. Elsa had tried to remain awake, listening intently to her mother as she whispered old folk tales about the constellations to her, Agdar stroking her hair when she eventually fell asleep too.

She remembered Anna first discovering how to open doors, the little girl hopping up and yanking on the doorknob and bouncing into whatever room looked interesting. She and her sister had made a game of it; Elsa on one side, closing the door, and Anna on the other side trying to get it open, pouting at Elsa's giggles through the wood when her little jumps weren't high enough for her to reach the knob.

She remembered finding Elsa wearing her mother's crown and one of her dresses, her little feet far too small for Idunn's shoes, standing in front of one of the suits of armor that had been a part of Arendellan history for years. Anna had come running around the corner wearing an ill-fitting dragon costume, complete with a three foot long tail and one and a half wings, and then proceeded to "rescue" Elsa from the horrible knight. It involved biting metal, crying, and a short lecture on taking care of one's teeth.

She'd been convinced they'd grow up to be utter terrors and a small part of her had been secretly glad. Her second pregnancy had been so debilitating that she was certain then that Anna would have no younger siblings, but it was all right, because the bond between her daughters was so strong from the moment of Anna's first opening her eyes that they didn't need anyone else. Elsa would grow to be the strong, self-assured queen, confident in her intelligence, bearing, wisdom, and with a special trick up her sleeve, and Anna would be right at her side, part partner in crime and part advisor and entirely her best friend.

Idunn sighed and wrapped her arms around her knees, blinking quickly around the tears in her eyes. At least she could blame night dreams on stress and exhaustion. Daydreams plagued her by feeling more real than her everyday life.

"You're still awake."

She glanced down. Agdar's voice was scratchy with sleep as he shifted. He pushed the covers to the side, rubbing his cheek. She could hear the scratch of his stubble against his palm, watched as the muscles moved under his bare skin when he set his arm down. He was a powerful man but he had always been gentle with her.

She drew her lips up into a small smile, meant to reassure, but it faltered under the weight of his gaze. His green eyes were always so much darker and deeper at night. Gone were their crowns, his medals and royal clothes, their responsibilities that hung from them during the day, leaving in its place the honesty that befell in the night.

She remembered so many years ago, a contract, a foreign land filled with nothing but the unknown, a new king, a newlywed, a stranger sliding a promise down her finger, the stiffness and solemnity of ceremony, giving way to the tentative awkwardness of a king and a queen who knew of but did not know each other as they went through the motions of marriage, giving way to a pleasant friendship that made her fear melt away until finally she could be Idunn and he could be Agdar and they could be man and woman with no titles or histories to come between them.

She nodded. "I couldn't sleep." She kept her voice low, for fear of disturbing the serenity.

He took up her hand in his, cradling it. His hands were much larger than hers, hardened from his military service. His thumb brushed lightly against her palm in long strokes, their ring fingers glinting in the starlight.

"Is the moon out?" he asked. He was still looking down at their hands.

"No," she responded after she glanced out the windows. There was a darkness where the moon ought to be.

He smiled, as slow and as steady as his thumb. "I thought it might be, if you're still awake."

She tilted her head at him, confused.

His eyes were green. They matched Anna's color well. But their depth had been passed down to their first daughter. "You don't remember?" His whisper crept across the darkness.

He chuckled when she shook her head wordlessly. "You never got much sleep when you were carrying her." She didn't need to ask who he meant. "It seemed like you never got so much as a night's rest, but you were never tired. I'd wake up and find you just…watching the moon."

She remembered that now, those long days filled with excitement as the days rolled on and on, one step closer to the end, the long nights filled with wonder as her belly grew too heavy for sleep.

He stroked her hand. "I thought for sure you'd give birth to a moonchild," he murmured.

She couldn't be sure she hadn't.

"You're not hiding another one, are you?"

She smiled for real this time. "No. Besides, I was better with Anna, wasn't I?" Her main sin hadn't been insomnia, at least.

His mustache framed his smile. "I'd never been skinnier."

She laughed into her palm, his own quiet laughter sounding like the rumble of thunder backing the tinkling raindrops that was her laugh. They had begun as two very different people and they remained so, their opinions and thoughts separating at times, but time and familiarity had allowed them the chance to learn to take those differences and weave them together into a partnership that had weathered stunning revelations, terrifying calamity, and that slow, lingering tread of knowing failure that could not be fixed by their hands alone.

Perhaps that was why she preferred being awake at night. Her bodily exhaustion was secondary to her craving for truth over well-meaning lies.

She let the silence fall upon them for a long moment, gathering her strength.

"Must we go?" She knew what answer he would give.

He didn't answer her immediately, his hand never stopping its motions. He had always liked to play with his hands, wringing them together behind his back as he presented his good side to his now greatly reduced court.

"Not tomorrow," he said, "but someday."

Someday. Someday, that day that they talked about all the time, as if it existed on the calendar, could be planned for, awaited, the days until its arrival counted and calculated. Someday, when Elsa's brows no longer had that thin line between them, when she stood tall and proud, her eyes sparkling with an inner fire, not dim with worry; someday, when Anna stationed herself beside her sister and was welcomed there.

That day had not come. It would not come, not for years, at this rate. Sometimes, when the honesty of the night turned against her and showed her her fears and not her joys, she wondered if it might ever come at all.

Someday had not arrived, but the servants knew what to do, the regent was ready to assist Elsa with whatever she needed, and perhaps a change would do them all some good. Maybe what Elsa needed, to stabilize herself and accept herself, was not the pressure of her parents, but distance, space to breathe. Holding her sister at arm's length was taxing, or had been, because Anna's steps now walked past Elsa's door instead of pausing; perhaps if they removed themselves from the situation Elsa might know peace.

It felt like a lie on her lips. She did not voice it; to do so would feel like blasphemy.

"No," she said, "not someday. Tomorrow, because…because someday won't come." She blinked quickly again. Her throat felt hard. "So, we might as well go anyways."

She closed her eyes when his palm grazed her cheek, turning her head into his caress, some of her worry bleeding out and into him. He could bear it better than she could. His constant offering was more than enough to make her love him all over again.

"It will come," he said, and leaned up to lay a kiss as soft as a cloud on her lips. "And we will be there to see it." His eyes were dark and filled with a sad, tired hope.

She turned her hand and gripped his firmly. "Promise me," she whispered, her voice thick with strain. "Promise me, please, Agdar…I can't…I…"

He kissed her again and laid his forehead on hers. "It will. It will."

* * *

And so the dawn came.

They rose and dressed in their usual silence. Their things had already been packed, their goodbyes had been made the night before, and while Elsa might be awake Anna was certainly still asleep at this hour.

As they made their way out of the castle they passed by Elsa's door, and Idunn paused. She offered Agdar a quick reassurance that she wouldn't be long and he nodded and left for the ship waiting at the dock.

Idunn knocked lightly on the door, just above one of the snowflake patterns. "Elsa?"

The silence was heavy, unlike the companionable one that often drew her and her husband together. This silence felt like worry lines written on a face that was far too young for wrinkles and far too old for innocence.

Elsa opened the door. She glanced around, presumably looking for her father, and stared at her mother standing there alone, confused. She hesitated for a moment, then drew the door open more, and Idunn stepped inside.

She looked around the room, satisfied to find there were no splotches of ice or snow anywhere. The air was slightly chillier than the hallway, but that was because the windows were open and the sea air was filling the room with the scent of the ocean.

"Is there something I needed to do?" Elsa asked quickly as she shut the door. She was already clothed, her hair put together and gloves covering her hands, the hands that she had begun to twist in her dress already. "I have the list of instructions from Kai, and you'll only be gone two weeks. That's…that's not enough time for me to do much damage – legally, I mean, I should be fine…" She stopped babbling, dropping her head down as she sought to control herself.

"It's just…I should be fine, so…unless you're planning on staying, actually?" Her eyes had that same sad, tired hope in them that Idunn had seen mere hours before.

She shook her head, and Elsa's hope faded. "Oh."

"I just stopped in to see how you were," her mother said.

"I'm fine," Elsa said.

"Is there…anything you wanted?" Idunn asked, wanting a reason to stay.

Elsa didn't say anything, and then she shook her head. "No."

Idunn watched her daughter, standing there in her room, the only place she felt safe, and felt like an invader. The distance between them felt enormous while the room crowded ever inward. There was no space to breath despite the fresh air because Elsa's face was closed and so was her heart.

Someday, things would be different.

Idunn steeled her nerves and stepped forward.

Elsa jerked her head back, her eyes wide and terrified, when her mother's knuckles brushed against her cheek, but Idunn took another step forward so that she was still in contact.

Elsa trembled, gaze darting between her mother's hand and face, and Idunn could feel the temperature begin to drop the longer she stood there, but she clenched her teeth and remained. Her knuckles began to ache.

Elsa blinked rapidly and dropped her eyes to the floor like some animal enduring a forced petting, and Idunn withdrew with a sigh. Nothing had changed. Her small moment of bravery had done nothing but proven how far apart they truly were, how alien affection was to her daughter.

Not for the first time, Idunn wondered what they'd done to her, and whether it was right.

She took a step back, which made Elsa calm enough to look her in the eye. "We'll be off within the hour."

Elsa nodded. "Goodbye," she said.

Idunn opened her mouth, but Elsa was a statue riddled with cracks; she dare not say anything.

She turned and left.

* * *

Kai was handing their luggage to one of the crewmen as the royal couple waited at the dock. The ship was small but magnificent, its well carved wood sturdy and secure.

There came a sudden pounding.

"Wait!"

Idunn had only a second to prepare herself before Anna was leaping into her arms, squeezing her to the point where she felt like she was drowning in physical affection. "Anna," she said, laughing, "you've already said goodbye last night!" She pulled back to give her daughter a look, noting her nightgown and bare feet with half amusement, half disappointment.

"I know, but if I say goodbye again then you'll come back faster," Anna declared. She stepped back and then offered the same bone-crushing hug to her father, Agdar's eyes meeting Idunn's over her shoulder as he grinned at her.

"Don't get up to any trouble while we're gone," he told her sternly, but ruined the effect by tapping her on the nose and making her giggle. She promised that she'd be as good as she could possibly be, which meant that Kai would have a long list to read to them when they returned.

"Besides, Elsa's watching over me, so I'll be fine, right?"

Idunn's lips twitched. "Of course."

* * *

The queen settled her hands on the railing. The wind streamed through her hair as the gulls cried while they followed the ship, drifting on the air currents above.

She laughed at the sight of her younger daughter, bouncing up and down at the end of the dock, whipping a handkerchief around in the one hand and shouting goodbyes, Kai at her elbow trying to grab the bottle of champagne she had planned to break upon the ship before they'd left. She'd been upset to learn that this rule applied only to maiden voyages, enough so that Idunn had been tempted to let her do it, just for luck, but thankfully cooler heads had prevailed and so Anna had left them with more kisses and hugs and entreaties to bring her back lots of stories of the wedding and the people and the lands they were sure to explore, for her sake.

Idunn looked up to the tallest tower. From one of the windows Elsa watched them. Her white gloves fairly blazed in the red light of morning. She raised one and waved hesitantly.

Her mother returned the gesture, and for a moment she imagined a brief smile overtaking her daughter's face. Then the moment was gone and Elsa was like stone again, a silent onlooker.

She stood at the railing for a long time, well past the moment when she could no longer see Anna, when the fjord became a small point on the horizon, when Arendelle faded away with the rush of the water beneath them

Agdar laid a hand on her shoulder. "I believe the captain wishes to show us around the ship. Would you like a tour?"

She accepted his offered hand and turned away from the last of the Arendelle horizon. She'd see it on the return trip.

And maybe, she'd finally see that someday arrive, too.


End file.
